


pull into normality

by vexedcer



Series: brooklyn bridge [5]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Getting Together, M/M, discussion of mental health issues, they finally get together people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 22:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11792694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexedcer/pseuds/vexedcer
Summary: Jace's leather jacket looks at home beside his hoodies hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Jace's boots look familiar beside his sneakers, aligned and uniform next to his own untidy row.For the first time in a very long time, he thinks,fuck it.(Simon reconciles with Clary and confronts his feelings for Jace.)





	pull into normality

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning (minor): depression and references/discussions of suicide/mental health issues.

He texts Clary the morning after his talk with Magnus. They agree to meet at a coffee shop they used to frequent - they had an open-mic for poetry in the evenings sometimes and his friend Eric liked to perform his work there.

It wasn't very good, but he always dragged Clary along to see the performances because otherwise he's stuck making awkward small talk with poets as bad as Eric.

The place is nice; the couches are soft and dark enough that you couldn't see any obvious stains and the tables are sturdy and it's only busy in the morning time which were his and Clary's least common visiting hours.

He's very aware that this is neutral ground. It's not the Institute, it's not Magnus’ loft. It feels good, sort of - neither of them are part of a world which is steeped in chaos right now. They're just Clary and Simon, best friends catching up over coffee.

Clary is there when he arrives, looking tired and pale. He figures that she has a glamour over her runes because she's shucked her jacket and the tattoo like symbols are harsh and dark against her fair skin.

He takes a deep breath before stepping into the cosy little cafe, steeling himself for awkward silences and difficult conversations. He's never been good at confronting his issues - hence the whole trying to jump off a bridge thing.

She gives him something of a sheepish smile when she sees him, nervous - which is a bit of a relief. He's not the only one of them dreading this.

They talk - drawing apologies out of each other, talking tentatively and openly, scared of how frail the thread between them has been. It's good, he thinks. He knows that hurt and pain and betrayal leave marks but he feels closer and more honest with her than he has in months, including the period of time that they were sleeping together.

He just wants to get things back to as normal as they can.

He reaches forward to steal a sip of her coffee even though it's going to make him feel slightly sick.

She smiles at the familiarity of him drinking from her cup, “I've missed you so much.” She looks down at the table, slightly sad smile on her face.

“I miss you too,” he tells her honestly - he really does miss her. He misses sitting in this coffee shop and doing nothing for two or three hours, walking in parks, throwing pieces of popcorn at her while watching TV late at night.

He misses being a normal teenager with normal teenage problems, not the-world-is-ending kind. And, he never thought he'd say it - he misses high school. The structure, the deadlines, the whole not-actually-deadly atmosphere.

Everything feels so out of control right now, which probably contributed greatly to the very niggling starts of his depressive episode.

But this right here is something he can (half) control, this sitting down and talking about their problems thing. Which is very mature of them, if he does say so himself.

“What have you been doing the last couple of weeks?” he asks. He’s steering the conversation away from the apologies - because he’s weak and he thinks it's all still a bit raw. They'll talk about it more later. He just wants his best friend back right now.

She directs a shy kind of smile at the table top. “Me and Izzy have been hanging out a lot, she's been training me since things with me and Jace are - well, you know. It's not like he's been around much either. I only see him on missions now.”

He thinks back to all the nights they lounged in his bed watching things on his laptop. He thinks he’s seen Jace nearly every other day if not more since the night on the bridge.

“Yeah,” he says very casually, “He's been in Magnus’ apartment a lot recently. We've been spending time together.”

“Really?” She looks a little surprised. “I thought you guys hated each other.”

“Yeah, well - I guess now we don't. Magnus said something about how because we're not competing for your attention, we actually get along. We even started watching _Brooklyn Nine Nine_.”

She feigns shock. “Things must have really changed if you're introducing him to Jake Peralta, the love of your life.”

Her lips twitch at that, a nice little pull into normality before a rock drops into his stomach.

He knows he should tell her. He doesn't have to. She's not his therapist, and he may love her, though differently than before, but she isn't _owed_ his experiences. He could just not tell her.

But.

He wants to. She's seen him at his worst, the lowest low before this last one, one constant before Jace. There's something - _appealing_ about getting it off his chest to someone who isn't Jace or Magnus (or Alec, but him knowing about it all was a byproduct of his conversations with Magnus).

“There was one night after, uhm - after the court I was pretty messed up. Depressed. It was - really bad.” He looks up at Clary to see that her face is twisted into something concerned and heavy. “I'm doing better now - I promise.” He pushes out his pinky finger towards her.

She links them together, just like when they were little kids and he made her promise not to tell anyone that he had a crush on Kelsey Bell when they were in the third grade.

When they separate, the amused look fades from Clary's face and the worry reemerges.

He takes a steadying deep breath as Clary reaches out to grip his hand. It doesn't hurt the way it would have two weeks ago, and again two months ago.

“But it was bad, and one night - I went to the bridge and was going to jump off but Jace stopped me.” He looks up and takes him her devastated expression. “And since then we've - been hanging out.”

“It was you on the phone that day,” she says with fresh understanding in her voice, “When Jace got a call and Alec just let him go.”

He nods, laughs quietly in a deprecating way. The cosy hum of the cafe seems to swallow the sound. “I felt really bad about that, but I was really messed up and he said to call him if I ever wanted to go to the bridge again.”

“God, Simon, I feel so - this is my fault.” She says, taking all the blame the way she always wants to.

“No,” he says. She looks startled by the firmness of his tone. “I made the decision, because I'm depressed and that's on me. It's been so hard to accept the things that are happening around me for so long; the Shadow World, being a vampire, the Seelie Court - but this was my decision, a really bad one, an incredibly stupidly bad one, but it was all on me.”

She looks at him with a watery expression, guilt still present in her face. “But the Seelie Court -”

“ - Was the straw that broke the camel's back, yeah. This has been building for a while, and that was just the last thing before I gave up. I don't want you to take the blame, I _need_ \- I need proof that I'm the one in control, even if what I'm doing is dangerous and stupid.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, voice fraught with a soft kind of fear.

He is - being in control is a root in all of this, accepting his own shit and knowing he was depressed and _working on those things_ is the only way he can move forward.

Going to the bridge was not a good thing to do - he's working on that by leaning on Jace when he feels like going with urge to dive into the East River.

As a vampire, he has all of these new things to keep in check, the bloodlust and his new senses - it's comforting to know his consciousness is the one driving things, and not just the newly-awakened instinctive thing in the back of his head that's come hand and hand with the sun-searing skin and fangs.

“Yeah, I am.” He reaches forward to squeeze her hand in reassurance. He's reassuring her when he just told her that he tried to kill himself.

They'll work on it

“And Jace is the one who -”

He laughs a little. “Yeah - surprisingly he's not actually an asshole. He's a decent guy when you get under all the layers of arrogance and muscles.”

“Muscles?” She repeats with a look he knows well. He splutters.

“All of the fucking demon hunters are muscly as hell, shut up.” He swipes Clary's paper cup again to sip her drink. Mocha. His stomach twists.

“I think it's cute,” she smiles, light and teasing and this is exactly what he wanted back, the comfortable push pull except he'd do anything to get away from this topic. “You guys would literally be a ‘ _Enemies to Friends to Lovers_ ’ trope.”

He can't help it - he laughs at that one.

“Simon, do you like-like Jace?”

“Okay, first of all, we're eighteen and you just genuinely said _'like-like’_ as if we're still in middle school.”

She steals her cup back from his side of the table and tips her head back to drain it, a smirk playing on her lips. “Just answer the question.”

He watches his fingers lightly drum on the table top, a soft smile on his face. “Maybe, I don't know - it's just been so good to spend time with someone and show them all my favourite movies for the first time.” He snaps back to reality, smile dropping. “I'd feel weird about even trying anything since you and him were kinda -” he gestures vaguely.

The two never quite defined what had been going on before Valentine dropped the siblings bomb.

Clary suddenly sits up straighter, face suddenly nervous. “Simon, I have to tell you something, and you have to promise me not to freak out.”

He mirrors her posture, back straight and hands on the table.

“I've realised something over the last few weeks since the Seelie Court,” she takes a deep breath, “I'm gay.”

He feels his eyebrows shoot up at the confession, and then furrow back down again. “But Jace - ?”

“I know, I know,” she exhales quickly, “I guess everything being so new and Jace just being there, I got caught up and I thought I finally felt the way I was supposed to feel about a boy, but it wasn't real - and then I thought I could recreate that with you because I love you so much and maybe I could force it to change but I was wrong and everyone just got hurt.”

“But the Seelie Court and the one you most desired -” he continues before she cuts him off again.

“I wanted a relationship with a boy that I thought I could make it work with and be normal with - but now I see that,” she looks at him with big wide eyes, “I'm _already_ normal. So are you and Magnus and Alec and Izzy -”

“Izzy?” He interrupts, his eyebrows shooting up again. Clary turns a very strong shade of crimson as she splutters. “As in - _y_ _ou_ and Izzy?”

She's covered her eyes to hide her embarrassment, but she's smiling in the most besotted way as she nods.

He places a hand over hers, cold on warm, deep-yet-pale on fair. “I'm happy for you. I'm proud of you.”

She laughs. It's like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders and she's free - he gets that a little, that's how it felt to tell her that he liked boys too. Even if this is a little different, even if hers seems to come from a place of heteronormativity, he gets it.

“I guess now you can go after Jace,” she tells him with a bright smile, the blush fading down again.

He shrugs, fingers tapping a light beat into the wood of the table. “I don't know.”

“Simon, he obviously cares a lot, and in the very slim chance he doesn't like you back, he's not one of those jocks from high school, he's not going to beat the crap out of you if he smells the hint of something gay.” He hangs his head a little. “And if he doesn't like you back, he's not going to be weird about it. You said it yourself; Jace is a good guy.”

“I don't know, Clary,” he says again, for lack of any other words. “Jace doesn't _do_ relationships. Look what happened with you.”

“We thought we were related and I'm gay, Simon. It was never going to work out.”

When he doesn't say anything in response, she leans towards him, her hair falling in an amber curtain at the side of her face. “Listen, Jace cares about you a lot. You should at least try.”

“Magnus said the same thing.”

“Well then,” she says, voice filled with purpose, “If two very wonderful queer people are telling you to go on a big gay adventure with a handsome man, we must be right.”

“I love and support you, Fray,” he starts, watching her pick up her vibrating cell, “But are you going to be this gay all the time? It's annoying.” She gives him a giant patronising grin, and he can't help but laugh as she answers her phone.

“Hi,” she says and pauses. “Bushwick? I’ll be there soon. Okay, see you.” She starts to slip into her jacket. “I have to go meet Izzy and Jace to follow on a lead.”

The two step out of the cafe, saying goodbye to the barista who knows their names by now.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing Clary's wrist. “I'm really really happy for you and Izzy. I'm proud of you.”

She pulls him into a hug, tighter than ever thanks to her new shadowhunting muscles. “I love you so much.” She pulls away and says, “You better have some good news for me the next time I see you.”

After that she melts into the people in the street, disappearing from his eyes with a flash of copper hair.

She was the second person to encourage him to try this thing with Jace.

He hasn't even spoken to Jace about it yet. Despite what Magnus said about his apparently competent gaydar, he has no idea if Jace is into dudes at all.

Clary's right, Jace wouldn't be like the bullies in school who taunted him over things that he couldn't control.

Jace _is_ a good person under all his irritating bravo. He loves his family, his friends. Loyal to a fault for the things be believes in. Secretly soft, watching cat videos and soldiers returning home on YouTube.

Jace let him nap on his shoulder while watching movies, when he hadn't slept the night before, when that coldness hits and he can't help chase the warmth bleeding through Jace's clothes at his side.

Jace cares about him - but does he care that way? Is that enough?

It bugs him up until the point in the night when Jace quietly slips into Magnus’ apartment after a day's work. He's turning on his laptop, watching the back of Jace's head as he unlaces his heavy boots, unhurried, like he has all the time in the world.

They do, for now.

Jace's leather jacket looks at home beside his hoodies hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Jace's boots look familiar beside his sneakers, aligned and uniform next to his own untidy row.

For the first time in a very long time, he thinks, _fuck it._

He slips from what has become his side of the bed to sit at the edge with Jace.

He looks up at Simon with a curious expression, his knee pressing just slightly at Jace's hip  as he sits facing him

“I'm going to do something,” he says, “Tell me no.”

He leans forward so that he's in Jace's space, a hand lifting to cup Jace's cheek. His eyes are wide, the shard of brown vivid. Jace grips his wrist with his hand, and he worried for a second that he's going to pull it away, before it grips tighter and stays.

Jace looks down at his lips, their breath huffing between their bodies, and then back up.

He's not sure who closes the distance, but suddenly they're pressed together, alight with something burning, his whole body warm where usually it's only cold.

Jace smells like sweat and his cologne, tastes like coffee, feels just as solid and dependable as he's been for him for the last few weeks.

It's nothing and everything he's ever imagined, which is sappy as hell but the truth.

He pulls away first, Jace following his mouth as he shifts, before they settle their foreheads together, hands clutches tightly at shoulders and arms and jaws.

“Before this goes any further or whatever, just to be clear - this isn't a help-a-buddy-out, or a brojob -”

“Brojob,” Jace repeats quietly, laugh in his voice.

“ - or whatever you want to call it. This is big and gay and emotional -”

“Romantic Stylez?” He interrupts quietly, the _z_ sound dragging to make it's presence known.

He laughs, he cracks up completely until he's gasping, his face still pressed near to Jace's. “Oh my G- why did I introduce you to that show? You just ruined everything, this was all a mistake.”

He stays where he is, despite what he's saying.

“You would have said it sooner or later,” Jace tells him, his words warm against his wet lips. “I just beat you to it.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

Simon laughs quietly. He doesn't.

“And about this being big and gay and emotional - I'm actually bi,” Jace says.

He chuckles. “I'm pan.”

Later he'll text Clary saying, _I have good news._ Later he'll tell Jace in a quiet voice that he doesn't want Jace to try and fix him, that love cannot heal depression, cannot stop the bridge coming to the forefront of his mind sometimes. Later Jace will reject the idea that this has anything to do with the venom or the blood, this is all them.

That's later. Right now, they'll stay right there, basking in each other, stretching the moment out like they're trying to capture it in amber.

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who doesn't understand "romantic stylez" its a reference to Brooklyn Nine Nine. 
> 
> I finally managed to get all my last hc's into this: lesbian clary suffering with compulsive heterosexuality, clizzy, bi jace, pan simon and jimon watching b99. 
> 
> this fic was written in line with my (real time) mental health experiences, so if this doesn't apply to your mh journey, it very much does to mine. thank you all so much for reading!!!


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